The Primordial Record - Chapter 2175 Creation Against End
Chapter 2175 Creation Against End
TEN THOUSAND ORIGIN REALMS
The breach tore open with a sound that was not only echoed through space, but time as well.
Enoch was like a massive unborn baby a hundred times bigger than his mother, and this description could not be far from the truth because in many ways, Enoch was bigger than Existence, and he was forcing his way into it.
“RIIIPPP….”
The sound of this shocking act was the least damaging thing he was doing to Existence, and it did not take him long for the breach to reach a level that could no longer be fixed.
A scream echoed across Existence at this rending, as the Blackened Scar, which had been a wound in the fabric of Existence, became a door, and through that door, Enoch forced his way through.
His form was not what the Primordials had expected, as they had seen his hands that were vast enough to crush the entire Origin Realms in a single motion.
They had also seen the suggestion of his face, smooth and featureless, with spiral galaxies of End for eyes, and yet this was not all of Enoch, and even now, as he was fully revealed, most of them could not see all of him, and only Eos, the Soul of Existence, could see him.
Still, everyone here agreed on one thing: the figure of Enoch… was wrong.
He was something that should never have been allowed to exist.
Enoch was special, unlike the other Luminious, whose power of Lumina was able to suppress the corruptive influence of their bloodline to an extent; Enoch was not born with that filter.
From the moment of his birth, the metaphysical and spiritual block that all Luminious had was missing from his body, and so he had uninterrupted access to the bloodline and the voice of the Great One.
It was no wonder that despite his strength, Enoch still went insane and shattered the plans of the Great One. It was truly difficult to direct madness.
The sixty-five million cosmic eras he had spent in the domain of End had given Enoch the chance to recover from his madness to an extent, but the taint of End had twisted his Luminious form into something heretical that had neither been seen before.
At the beginning, with the aid of the Abomination flesh he left behind, Enoch had crafted a perfect Luminious body, but it did not last long under the poison of End flowing through his veins, and like the Abomination, he also began to mutate.
Enoch’s body was now a cathedral of suffering. Each limb had compressed and transformed into bones of dead Existences, his torso became a cage of fused timelines that had been bent and broken until they screamed in frequencies that shattered the minds of lesser immortals. These screams reached the end of time, and if Fury, Circe, or Victorious Genesis were here, they would have noted that these cries were eerily similar to the sound of the insects eating at everything at the end of time.
He no longer had a skin, just the flayed membrane of realities he had devoured, stretched thin over a form that had no right to move, to breathe, or to be.
And his face, where his face should have been, there was only absence. It was a smooth, porcelain void where features should have been, but the absence was hungry, and where it looked, life withered.
Enoch had been beautiful once, Eos had seen his memories, and it was hard to find another Luminious who was more beautiful than him, but after all this time, that beauty had been consumed by something far older and far more terrible.
It was the certainty in the heart of Enoch that he was the only thing that mattered. The only thing that should ever matter.
Enoch did not even see the Luminious as his equal, and if not for the desire to keep him ignorant at the beginning, Enoch had truly believed that he had wiped out all the Luminious.
The massive form of Enoch took a step forward, and he looked up and saw the endless immensity of Existence, and he drew in a deep breath, and for a moment, the endless expansion of Existence stalled as if the pressure of Enoch’s breathing was holding it down.
Then his swirling gaze turned towards the soul of Existence.
“You created them,” Enoch said, and his voice was like realities grinding against each other and the last breath of a billion dying Primordials. “You looked at the void and saw potential. You looked at nothing and decided it should be something. And you thought…” His formless face twisted, cracking in patterns that spelled agony in languages older than existence, “…you thought you were worthy.”
He began to walk toward the figure of light, and with each step, the void around him died. The echoes of a hundred dead Existences rose up around him, not as trophies. Worlds he had crushed. Civilizations he had unmade. Lives he had ended before they could become something he could not control.
“I was the first,” Enoch continued. “I was the only. I looked into the void, and I made it something; I breathed life into dust and called it creation, I forged light from darkness and called it beauty. And what did my creations do? They grew and changed. They became something I did not make, something I did not authorize, and in their growth, they stole everything from me.”
The sheer Aura from Enoch seemed to freeze all of Existence, and even the soul of Existence could not move under this endless weight.
Something truly diabolical was happening with Enoch’s body at the moment.
You see, the body of the Abomination he seized was made to endlessly evolve and adapt to whatever pressure was exerted upon it.
And now with the full Will and madness of Enoch inside this shell, his body had to continuously evolve to keep up with his growing adaptation to End, else it would collapse to dust.
This meant that Enoch was growing stronger with every moment that was passing, and this strength seemed to have no ceiling.
He reached out, and his hand, a claw of compressed bone and stolen essence, closed around the figure of light.
“You think I hate you because you threaten me? Because you might unmake what I have built?” Enoch did not wait for a reply as he laughed. “No. I hate you because you dare. You dare to create what I created… You dare to call yourself a creator when you are nothing but a thief! You stole from me, stole my light, my fire, my purpose…and you used it to make something I hate.”
The soul of Existence had been unleashed prematurely, but there was no helping it, Eos had to make a move before everything collapsed around him.
If he had a billion years or three billion years, as he had first negotiated, instead of a hundred million years, then the fusion between his soul and Existence would be complete, but for now, there was still a large part of this fusion that was still left to go.
Nevertheless, a hundred million years was enough to accumulate power, and the soul of Existence pulsed, pushing back against Enoch’s grip, and for a moment, the two forces were balanced.
